


Prompt: You Don't Have to Say Anything + Claire/Nat + Thunderstorms

by NightValeian



Series: Clintasha Prompt Collection [10]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Flashbacks, Gender or Sex Swap, Genderbending, mentions of Red Room
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-01
Updated: 2016-10-17
Packaged: 2018-08-19 00:09:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8181053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightValeian/pseuds/NightValeian
Summary: Nat has good days and bad; the bad ones come when it storms.





	1. Chapter 1

Nathaniel always liked the rain; it soothed him, brought him peace, the sounds of water decorating the streets and buildings with gentle drip drips and pitter patters. When it rained, he could sleep peacefully at night without a care in the world or go for a walk when he needed to clear his head.

Thunderstorms were a different story entirely. On good days, he could sit through a thunderstorm without really thinking too much into it. He could ignore the rumbles and the flashing lights, busying himself with another activity to take his mind off of it. Sometimes it was really easy because Claire was usually around, using her bright smile and terrible jokes to distract him. 

On bad days, crashes of thunder were explosions and rumbles were machines. The flashes of light cast shadows on the walls of people he used to know, people he remembered and people he had killed. Not even a good book could distract him on bad days; he’d spend those days alone, hands covering his ears and waiting for it to end while he silently reminded himself where he was, who he was. 

Today was a bad day. 

“Nathaniel Romanov. New York City. 2016. Not Red Room. I am safe.” He murmured, hands over his ears. “Nathaniel Romanov. New York City. 2016. Not Red–”

A crack of thunder splits across the sky, he jumps out of his skin, loses his train of thought. The machines comes to life; shadows appear on the walls, voices mock him, call him weak. He’s slipping, he needs reconditioning.  

No…No…No! He didn’t want to go back under; he didn’t want to go back. 

He was safe…He was home…He was…He was…

Who was he? 

Oh God, where was he? 

Was this Red Room? No, it didn’t look the same. Was he on a mission? Who was the target? Was this their house? Did he need a weapon?

An explosion in the distance, he holds his hands tighter over his ears; a door handle turns and light fills the dark room, nearly blinding him and causing him to flinch back from the figure in the doorway. 

Red Room; he was being reconditioned. They were coming to take him away; he could hear the machines and see the doctors on the wall. 

The lights come on, he closes his eyes tightly. He doesn’t want to go back; there’s somewhere he needs to be, someone he needs to find, but he can’t remember anything, the machines are just too loud. 

“Nat?” 

Nat? 

“Nat, can you hear me?” 

He knows this voice; he opens his eyes.

His eyes find the source of the voice; a woman. A kind face, blue eyes, young. She’s not one of the normal doctors; is she new? She looks too kind to be here in this terrible place. 

“Don’t go where I can’t follow, Nat.” 

Nat….Nat…Nathaniel. 

That was his name, wasn’t it? 

_Nathaniel Romanov._

He lowers his hands, staring at this woman with wide eyes, knowing he looked more like a frightened animal than a human being judging by the sad look on her face. 

“It’s just a storm, Nat. We’re in New York.”

_New York City._

“It’s 2016.” 

_2016._

“We aren’t in Red Room.”

_Not Red Room._

“You’re safe.” 

_Safe._

The woman came closer to him and this time, he didn’t flinch. She smiled at him, soft, soothing, but all he could do was stare. 

He knew her…Didn’t he?

He must have known her because when she took his hands, the machines were just thunder and the shadows were just shadows. There was only rain and blue eyes. 

“Let’s go to bed, huh? Silly man, sitting in the dark. I was only at the store for ten minutes.” 

She was soaked; had she been outside? In this weather? What a stupid, irresponsible thing to do. She could catch a cold or ruin her clothes. What had she been thinking?

“Don’t look at me like that. With a storm like this, we were going to need some provisions. I got that wine you like and everything. I have a feeling we’ll be holed up for a few days. Streets are flooded.”

She led him out of the living room and into another; one with an unmade bed, but an otherwise clean room. It looked lived in, like a home, and she led him to the bed, sitting him down on the edge. 

“I will be right back, okay? Stay here. Wait for me.” 

Wait for her…He’d always wait for her. 

He must know her if he was so willing to listen to her, to trust her, to wait. 

She left him in the bedroom, disappearing into what he remembered to be the bathroom. She wasn’t gone for long though and he hadn’t drifted in that short amount of time.

It was still her, but she was in different clothes now. Wet; she’d been all wet, so she’d gone to change. That made sense. 

She came back to him, walking until she was standing in front of him and stopping. She studied him, searching his eyes before she seemed satisfied. He knew those eyes, that smile, that purple t-shirt and the shorts with the arrows on them. 

He knew that voice; soft, soothing when he was afraid and full of sarcasm when he wasn’t. He remembered her laugh; it was loud. She put everything she had into that laugh of her. 

Claire. 

She smiled, bright, but her eyes showed she was relieved. She must have noticed the recognition in his eyes.

“There you are. I missed you.” 

She bent at the waist, pressing a kiss to his forehead, soft and lingering. He closed his eyes, at peace until she pulled away. 

“Let’s go to bed.” 

She urged him back until he was laying down and she was curled up next to him, laying her head on his chest. They laid there for a long time, breathing steadily, while his hand slowly moved in a familiar path up her arm and down her shoulder. 

Outside, the thunder continued to crack across the sky and the lightning flashed.

_Nathaniel Romanov._

_New York City._

_2016._

_Not Red Room._

“Claire…” He croaked out at last, wanting to apologize for everything. 

For letting her see him like this, for letting him be seen so weak. She shouldn’t have to put up with this every time it stormed. 

Why would she do this?

“You don’t have to say anything.”  

It was said with so much warmth, so much…so much love. 

Oh. 

He fell silent, letting his apology die in his throat. She was so good to him; she always knew how to chase away the demons. 

_I am safe._

_I am home._


	2. Claire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire was in the checkout lane when the storm started.
> 
> She hurries home to Nat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just really wanted to write a follow up to the prompt I'd written.

Claire had been in the checkout lane when the storm started.

The weather channel had been talking about it all day; stay indoors, severe risk of flooding, travel probably impossible, strong winds and frequent lightning. They’d said it wouldn’t hit until later that night, so Claire had decided to make a quick run to the store in order to pick up some groceries that would get her and Nat through the next couple of days.

Nat.

Nat hated storms; he acted like they didn’t, but they did. They triggered him, loud noises and flashing lights easily sending him back to a time in his life he hated talking about and hated remembering even more.

Red Room; nothing scared Nat more than going back to Red Room, to forgetting himself and everyone around him, to become a weapon only used for destruction again.   

The rain started to pour down outside, the lightning flashed across the sky, and a baby in line behind her started to wail in fear causing his mother to quickly wrap him up in her arms and start to hush him. Claire stepped up to the register, quickly laying her things out on the belt, and thought of her own afraid loved one, stuck at home by himself without her there to comfort him.

She hoped that she got to him before he slipped too far; she should have never left him alone.

She bagged her own groceries, tied the handles together, and ran out into the storm. She was drenched in seconds from head to toe as she hurried her way down the sidewalk those five blocks to her apartment where Nat was waiting for her.

Wet footprints showed her trail as she hurried her way up the stairs to her floor, fumbling with the keys in her wet pockets and equally wet hands. She heard no noises inside, saw no lights under the door. They hadn’t lost power yet, thank goodness, but that also meant that Nat was probably sitting by himself in the dark.

She hoped he wasn’t.

When she opened the door, she felt her heart sink.

There he was; sitting alone in the dark in the corner of the living room, hands clamped over his ears and tear tracks running down his cheeks.

God, why did she leave him alone?

She turned on the lights, his eyes snapped closed.

She set down her groceries quietly, staring at him and taking in his posture. He was shaking, but his muscles were tense. He knew she was here, but he probably had no idea who she was or where he was. He probably had already slipped, judging by the way he looked.

“Nat?”

He always recognized his name, always. Even if he didn’t know it was his name, he recognized it. He told her that it always helped, it brought him back, slowly, a bit at a time.

“Nat, can you hear me?”

He opens his eyes slowly, fixing his gaze on her and she sees her fears are confirmed. Nat is looking at her like a frightened animal, terrified and unaware of what she might do to him.

He has no idea who she is.

She keeps talking.

“Don’t go where I can’t follow, Nat.”

A flash of recognition; he slowly lowers his hands from his ears.

She had to go through the motions; remind him.

“It’s just a storm, Nat. We’re in New York.”

“It’s 2016.”

“We aren’t in Red Room.”

“You’re safe.”

Each line takes a bit of tension from his shoulders, running him through his routine and triggering those familiar thoughts.

She took a few hesitant steps forward, putting a smile on her face and reached out to take his hands in her own when she was close enough. He didn’t pull away, he didn’t flinch, he was simply staring up at her in awe, no recognition on his face, but she could see the thoughtfulness. He was trying to put the pieces together; all she had to do was be herself.

That’s always what she had to do.

“Let’s go to bed, huh? Silly man, sitting in the dark. I was only at the store for ten minutes.”

His gaze flickered, giving her a once over before his expression shifted. His eyes were disapproving, lips tugging down at the corners in the barest hint of a frown.

She knew that look; he always gave her that look when he was upset with her. He took one look at her, soaked through like a wet dog, and he had that familiar reaction.

Claire could have cried; he was slowly coming back to her a piece at a time.

“Don’t look at me like that. With a storm like this, we’re going to need provisions. I got that wine you like and everything. I have a feeling we’ll be holed up for a few days. The streets are flooded.”

She keeps a hold on his hands, leading him from the living room and into the bedroom like a parent leading a child. She didn’t rush him; he walked stiffly, still unsure of who exactly she was, but trusting her enough to follow.

She leads him to the bed, releasing his hands and very gently pushing his shoulders until he slowly sank into a sitting position on the edge of the bed. He tilted his head back to look up at her and it took everything in her to not run her hands through his hair or bend to press a kiss to his face. That was too familiar and could very easily startle him, erasing all of the progress they’d made already.

She needed to change clothes. She withdrew her hands from his shoulders.

“I’ll be right back, okay? Stay here. Wait for me.”

He doesn’t acknowledge her words, but he doesn’t move as she steps away from him and makes her way to the bathroom. She has to get out of these clothes; she’s soaked, cold, and all she wants to do is curl up next to Nathaniel and bring him home.

She rushes through the routine, pulling off wet clothes and tossing them into the hamper and pulling on her sleep clothes. It rarely happened, but sometimes Nat slipped if she wasn’t constantly with him and he would wander or even worse, he would panic.

She couldn’t count how many times she would return from the bathroom and Nat would be back in the living room or hiding in the closet, ready to strike at the unfamiliar presence approaching him.

She couldn’t stand the look on his face when he came to and realized that in his panic he’d ended up hurting her. She never blamed him; he only ever lashed out at her on bad nights and even then, it was rare. He thought he was in Red Room, thought she was a nurse and she was there to hurt him, so he’d lash out to protect himself.

She had nights like that too, sometimes just as often; waking up in the middle of the night with memories of blue light and Loki’s laughter. Lashing out at the first thing that touched her because it reminded her of cold hands and whispered taunts. When she’d come back to reality, registering that those cold hands were actually warm and the whispered taunts were Nat coaxing her back into his arms.

In a way, they were perfect for one another because they knew how to care for one another when they were at their lowest and most vulnerable.

Claire finally left the bathroom, relieved to see Nat still sitting right where she’d left him and that her return made his gaze shift back to her. She approached him, stopping in front of him and smiling at him affectionately. He studied her for a long time, eyebrows knitted together, obviously deep in thought before she saw it.

That flicker of recognition.

She watched the way his eyebrows relaxed, the way his eyes softened, and the way the frown slowly left his face, a ghost of a smile lingering there.

There he was.

That was her Nat.

“There you are.” She whispered. “I missed you.”

She bent at the waist, finally allowing her lips to press against his forehead and lingering for some time. She never wanted to admit out loud that she was terrified that one day he’d slip and never come back; that he’d go back to full Red Room Nat and she wouldn’t be able to protect him anymore.

He sighed audibly, closing his eyes at her kiss, and she pulled away after a moment, smiling down at him. When he looked up at her, she saw her Nathaniel staring back at her. He wasn’t smiling, but she hardly expected him to; it was hard to immediately recover from something like that.

“Let’s go to bed.”

She nudged at him until he gave in, laying back on the bed and propping his head up on the pillows. After a moment of making sure he was comfortable, she climbed in beside him, pulling the covers up over them so they were warm and snug before she laid her head on his chest.

His arm wound around her shoulder, his fingertips tracing a familiar path across her skin. The thunder and the lightning didn’t seem so frightening anymore, she figured, judging from the slow thump-thump of Nathaniel’s heartbeat. He was calm at last; she hardly needed to worry as much anymore.

“Claire…”

She started just slightly, surprised to hear his voice so soon after all that had happened. He usually never spoke after events like this; she figured he was embarrassed and he would never really want to talk about it.

Even now, she could hear the guilt, the shame.

She wished he wouldn’t feel that way.

She’d do anything for him; she loved him.

“You don’t have to say anything.”

He took a deep breath, seeming to want to protest to that before letting it out, tightening his arm around her before pressing a kiss to the top of her hair.

She closed her eyes, settling against him, content enough to fall asleep and sleep this night away.

Outside, the storm carried on.


End file.
